Dialogues of the Dead

“After the bad press many of the Catholic male Orders have been getting in recent years, I think I’ll stick to nunlike.”

“Could Charley be the Wordman?”

“No.”

“How so sure? ’Less you’re the Wordman yourself, of course.”

“Because, as I’m sure you have already ascertained, on the first of the two evenings you questioned me about, when I was enjoying the company of Percy Follows, Charley was culturally engaged with his literary group. And on the second evening he was with me.”

“Who says the killing took place in the evening? OK, that second day, you gave each other alibis in the evening, and your work means you’ve got an alibi for the day. But not Charley. He’s very vague about what he was doing that day. Says he thinks he probably went to the library but nobody seems able to confirm this. Not unless you’re suddenly going to remember seeing him there?”

“Now why should I do that?”

“One good turn, mebbe. But like mutual masturbation.”

“You mean in return for the good turn he has done me by alibiing me for that evening? But that would only make sense if we were both the Wordman.”

“That’s an interesting thought.”

“And one which I doubt has just sprung ready-formed into your mind, Superintendent. A folie à deux, is that the way you’re seeing things? Oh dear, and here was I thinking it was only myself I had to remove from your hook.”

“Hook. Like in fishing. Do any fishing yourself?”

“I have done, yes. Why?”

“The Hon. Geoff had a couple of rods with him. Like he’d mebbe gone out to fish with a mate.”

“I think perhaps you are mistaking our relationship.”

“Oh aye? How about your relationship with that lass of yours. You banging her?”

“Sorry?”

“Her with the silver flash and the funny name.”

“Rye. I assumed it was Rye you were referring to. It was the participle I had difficulty with.”

“There’s these tablets you can take. I said, are you banging her? whanging her? slipping her the yard of porridge? stirring her custard with your spoon? twiddling with her twilly-flew?”

That got a reaction but it was only a faint almost complimentary smile.

“Am I having a relationship with Rye, you mean? No.”

“But you’d like to?”

“She is an attractive woman.”

“That a yes?”

“Yes.”

“Got anything going at the moment?”

“A sexual outlet, you mean? No.”

“So how do you manage?”

“Manage what?”

“Manage not to embarrass yourself every time you stand up. Man in his prime, all parts working, getting horny whenever you look at your assistant, and you and Charley have grown out of giving each other a helping hand, so what do you do? Pay for it?”

“I don’t get the drift of your questions, Mr. Dalziel.”

“We never said owt about drift, just that I could ask anything I wanted and you’d answer truthfully. You got a problem with that?”

“Only an intellectual one. I understood there’d been no sexual overtones in these killings, so I’m curious why you seem concerned to focus on my sexuality.”

“Who said there’d been no sexual overtones?”

“You’ll recall I have in fact read three of the five Dialogues so I can draw my own conclusions from them. Only one woman has been attacked and there was nothing in what I read in that episode which suggested a sex motive. In fact there is, how shall I put it, an almost sexually sterile atmosphere about the whole affair.”

“You’re sounding a bit defensive.”

“Am I? Ah, I’m with you. You’re being provocative again. If I am the Wordman and my motive is completely non-sexual, then all these questions about my sex life might trigger a reaction at being so grossly misunderstood, is that the idea?”

“Reaction like this one, you mean?”

“Not being the Wordman, I could not be so precise. But I should say the impression I got from my reading was of someone clever enough to see through your little stratagem earlier than I did, and not let himself be provoked.”

“Or clever enough to appear slightly less clever than he really is.”

“Now that would be really clever. But surely such a paragon of cleverness would never let himself fall into your clutches for close questioning anyway?”

“Put your finger in it there, Mr. Dee. Let himself fall. Seems to me the fellow I’m thinking of might actually enjoy a little chat like this, face to face with the enemy and running rings round him.”

“It would, I think, be a long run. I speak metaphorically, of course. Forgive me if I seem to have erred towards over-familiarity, but I do feel that anyone trying to run rings round you, Mr. Dalziel, had best come equipped for a marathon. But how am I doing in my puny effort to persuade you I am not your man? I must confess I feel my strength failing.”

He did a little mime of exhaustion and, as if in sympathy, all the lights went out and the hubbub of sound effects which had provided a foil to their conversation ceased.

The ensuing silence was short. The voices of Bird and Follows rose in angry unison demanding what the hell was happening, then parted into contrapuntal duet as each sought to find a way of off-loading responsibility on to the other.